


Of Love and Demons

by parentaladvisorybullshitcontent



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22296379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent/pseuds/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: "Everything can love, Dan.""Don't think so.""Well, I do."Dan looks at him - properly looks at him - the earnest twist of his eyebrows and his unbearable eyes. Maybe that's what makes him say it."What's it like, then?"In which Dan, a demon, learns about love. Good Omens inspired AU.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 112





	Of Love and Demons

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna level with you, I wrote and edited this TODAY from scratch so it's not polished and lovely, it just is what it is and I had to write it out of my system
> 
> No disrespect intended to Good Omens. I love Good Omens. Please don't kill me
> 
> HUGE thanks to Andrea, my delightful beta 💖💖 this fic would not be here if you weren't encouraging me

The florist sits on the corner of a busy street, and the windows are full of greenery. Plants spill out into the street, pots lined up on the pavement, attracting bees on warmer days.

  
Passers-by don't seem to notice or care that some of the plants are exotic breeds more commonly found on the other side of the world, and certainly never in dull and drab England - not outside of Kew Gardens, at least. 

  
Dan thinks that Kew Gardens was probably Phil's fault, and intends to ask, but when he walks into the florist, bell dinging cheerfully overhead, what he actually says is -

  
"Every time I come here you've got more plants. You know you're meant to be selling plants, right?"

  
"Oh, hey," Phil says, from somewhere behind a particularly leafy fern. He has his glasses on - Dan wishes he wouldn't. He's pretty sure he doesn't need them, just like he doesn't need the plants or the cup of coffee that he undoubtedly has around here somewhere. It's just part of the human affectation he's putting on.

  
Dan needs to remember that. It's all a smokescreen. The hair and the eyes and the glasses and the way he throws his head back when he laughs - it's all superficial.

  
The problem is, he thinks, as he crosses the shop, nearly tripping over some brambles growing determinedly over the lino, that he knows that behind the facade, Phil is just - he's Phil. He could have twelve eyes and one giant eyebrow and always speak backwards and Dan would probably still - he'd probably still - 

  
"Wifi's been down all morning," Phil says, locking his phone and putting it down on the counter. "That's you, isn't it?"

  
Dan hops up to take his usual seat at the stool by the counter, pushing the fern out of the way so he can see Phil's face properly.

  
"Mm," He says, vaguely. "Thought of it in the shower. What d'you think?"

  
Phil shrugs.

  
"I mean, it's _bad_. But, like. You love wifi."

  
Dan sighs. The fern's leaves tremble.

  
"Yeah," He says. "But so does everyone else, so."

  
Phil tilts his head in agreement.

  
"I like it when you do that kind of thing," He says. "It's - it's g-" He stops, word not even fully formed yet.

  
"Don't."

  
"I wasn't!" Phil says, defensively even though he was. "I just. Nobody gets hurt when the wifi's down, that's all. I like it."

  
"You're not meant to," Dan says, after a moment, not sure what else to say.

  
Phil shrugs.

  
"I mean I don't like it _that_ much. I was gonna post something on Instagram."

  
"That's another one of mine," Dan says, smugly.

  
"Yeah, yeah," Phil says, rolling his eyes. "So you always say."

  
"Yeah, well, it's a good one!" Dan says, poking him in the shoulder. "All that insecurity and, like, half-naked people." He narrows his eyes. "What d'you do on Instagram, anyway?"

  
"Nothing to do with half-naked people, so shut up," Phil says. "It's just photos of plants."

  
"Hmm," Dan says, just because he wants Phil to roll his eyes again. He's not disappointed. "Hey, what're you up to today?"

  
"Selling plants."

  
"Ok, one, you've never sold a plant as long as you've had this place," Dan points out. "And two, come and get ramen with me."

  
"Oh God, I'm so tempted," Phil says, deadpan. "Won't someone please save me from your demonic wiles."

  
But he's already slipping his phone into his pocket, so Dan knows that's a yes.

  
-

  
There's a happy couple at the table next to theirs at the ramen place.

  
"Ugh," Dan says.

  
"You know, I think I got the idea the first thousand times," Phil says, eyes twinkling. "But, like, sure, try for a thousand and ten, maybe that'll do it."

  
Dan pokes his ankle with the toe of his shoe under the table.

  
"You're telling me you're ok with that?" He asks, inclining his head at the couple, who are staring dreamily into each other's eyes over their bowls.

  
"I mean, yeah," Phil says. "Why aren't you? Is that just your hell thing?"

  
"You make it sound like some weird rash," Dan says. "My _hell thing_." 

  
Phil laughs.

  
"If the boot fits," He says, grinning. 

  
Dan's foot finds his ankle under the table again, gently nudging.

  
"Arsehole," He says, but there's no heat in the word.  
Phil just smiles at him.

  
That smile. Dan really, really wishes he wouldn't. Especially not when that couple are right there, mocking him with their ability to hold hands and lean close across the table at each other.

  
All Dan can do is make sarcastic remarks and gently kick Phil under the table.

  
"It's just excessive," He says, about the couple. "The whole love thing's just - too much."

  
"Too much how?" Phil asks, sounding genuinely curious. "You know you're not actually on the clock right now, don't you? It's not like - like every demon's just lurking back there in the kitchen with a dictaphone, or something. It's just us."

  
"I know," Dan says, even though he doesn't know at all. "It's just - it's sappy. Pathetic. And humans are so obsessed with it."

  
"Makes your job easier," Phil points out. "All of that - that - temptation stuff."

  
"That's lust," Dan corrects. "Totally different thing."

  
"I feel like there's some love in there," Phil says. "Just a different kind, that's all."

  
"If you say so. Wouldn't know anyway."

  
It's a throwaway comment, but Phil catches it. Of course he does.

  
"What?"

  
Dan shrugs.

  
"I don't think love's, like, our thing. We're not capable of it. Not you - _really_ not you, you've got, like, love coming out of your ears, probably. But not me."

  
He means to sound flippant and unconcerned, but the words trip and fall flat on the table between them. 

  
Phil looks the same way he did the last time the two of them found a pigeon squashed flat in a gutter. Except on that occasion Phil had gently cupped it in hands and breathed life back into its bones. It had fluttered up to the eaves of the nearest building and Dan had watched, thunderstruck, not by Phil rescuing an inconsequential bird but the hot spike of feeling that had gone through him at the tenderness of Phil's hands.

  
There's no doing that for Dan. Dan's just a fallen thing that has to stay fallen.

  
"D'you know what I've not done in ages? Maybe since the 90s?" Dan asks, briskly, changing the subject. "Shots. D'you wanna go somewhere and do shots?"

  
-

  
They get drunk. 

  
It's not pretty, but being drunk never is. Except maybe Phil when he's drunk, but that's a different matter entirely.

  
"I didn't want to do that," Phil says, when they're falling out of a taxi at the flower shop, hours and hours later. Twilight has set in and the sky above them is purple with the promise of night, slight bite of a chill in the air. "I didn't want to do any of that."

  
Dan shuts the taxi door behind himself and watches Phil making his wobbly way around the car to the pavement. When he gets there Dan meets him, hands on his shoulders, the side of his neck.

  
It isn't lost on Dan, inebriated though he is, that his drunkenness is a choice in this situation - that he could very easily in a matter of seconds just not be drunk at all. But he isn't choosing to do that, because sober Dan wouldn't (couldn't, shouldn't) touch Phil like this, snaking an arm around his and leading him to the door, the pair of them leaning on each other.

  
"You'll all be ok out here, won't you?" Phil says, pausing at the door. It takes Dan a second to realise that he's talking to the plants.

  
"Get inside, loser," He says, laughing.

  
They somehow make it into the back room of the florists, which, among a cornucopia of yet more exotic plants, has a squat red sofa. Dan loves that sofa. 

  
They flop down on it, gratefully. Dan feels like his bones are made of soft pasta. He's touching Phil in odd ways that are setting his senses buzzing - thighs and arms and elbows. He tilts one way and their skulls knock. It doesn't hurt but Phil says ow anyway, laughing.

  
"What's so funny?" Dan wants to know, but he ends up laughing too.

  
When it dies down, Phil turns to look at him. Dan turns too, even though it's a bad idea when he's this much of a mess. Phil's hair's all over the place and his eyes are bright.

  
"That's really bothering me, y'know."

  
"Mm?"

  
"What - that stuff you said before. About not being able to love."

  
"Oh," Dan says, pulling a face. He's too drunk to have that conversation. "'S'not important."

  
"It is," Phil says, with the conviction that only someone extremely intoxicated can muster. "It is, Dan. It's awful."

  
"Right, yeah," Dan says, shaking his head. He shakes it a little too enthusiastically and has to close his eyes for a moment until everything stops being blurry. "Big bad - bad soulless demon. Very awful. Gotcha."

  
"Hey, no," Phil says, catching hold of his wrist. Dan doesn't know when the pair of them got so close. "Didn't say that. I just - everything can love, Dan."

  
"Don't think so."

  
"Well, I do."

  
Dan looks at him - properly looks at him - the earnest twist of his eyebrows and his unbearable eyes. Maybe that's what makes him say it.

  
"What's it like, then?"

  
Phil blinks and wets his lips, nervously.

  
"Dunno." Dan's about to make some smartarse remark when he continues. "It's different for everyone. I guess - I guess it's partnership. Like - like - two of you against the world. Fitting with someone in - in a different way to other people."

  
Dan can't breathe for a second. He shakes his wrist out of Phil's grasp, turning his head away, the spell broken.

  
"We should sober up," He mutters. "I'm just gonna - bathroom."

  
Angels don't really have any need for bathrooms. Neither do fallen ones, but Dan still relishes the opportunity to be alone for a moment, to shut the door and sit on the closed toilet seat, feeling hot and stupid. Of course there are plants in here too - a little row of flowering cacti on the windowsill, blooming and beautiful.

  
Dan stares at them as he wills every last drop of alcohol out of his body. Afterwards he feels drained, cold, and faintly nauseous.

  
When he opens the bathroom door, Phil's right there, waiting for him.

  
"Don't do that," Dan says, jumping out of his skin when he sees him lurking there, pale face gleaming a little in the poor light. "Bloody fuck, Phil, are you trying to discorporate me?"

  
"No," Phil says, guiltily. "Listen, Dan-"

  
"It's fine-"

  
"I shouldn't have said that stuff, I just - we had lots of shots, and -"

  
"I really appreciate it, Phil," Dan says, talking over him. "I get it, I - we've known each other for a long time now and - and you feel bad for me, and that's - whatever."

  
" _What_?"

  
"What?" Dan says, nonplussed, not getting Phil's outrage at all. "Are you sure you got all of the booze out, 'cause -"

  
"Oh my God, stop, alright? Stop, stop talking. Why would I feel sorry for you? What does that even mean?"

  
Dan blinks.

  
"I mean, you said stop talking," He says. "And then you're asking me a question, so that's-"

  
"For the love of-" Phil groans in frustration, turning and walking away down the hallway. "I'm in love with you, alright? Heaven help me, 'cause - 'cause you're an arsehole, and - and your clothes are questionable, and - and you're a _demon_ , of all things, holy shit."

  
Dan opens his mouth, then closes it again. He wonders if he really did get all the alcohol out. Maybe he slipped and hit his head and this is just a fun hallucination.

  
"I don't understand."

  
"Right, yeah," Phil says. "Demons and love. Polar opposites, you already said. But it's not because I feel sorry for you, alright, it's just 'cause - 'cause everything's better when you're here. That's it."

  
They somehow end up on the sofa again, side by side, staring in silence at the wall. Dan wishes with all his heart that he was still drunk.

  
"Sorry." 

  
"Phil."

  
"It's fine, ok, it's fine."

  
"I lied, alright?" Dan says. He can't look at Phil so he looks at his own hands instead. "About - about demons and love, everything I said was just. It was bullshit. I just wanted you to believe it was true so you wouldn't -" The words get stuck in his throat then.

  
"Wouldn't what?" Phil says, voice unbearably soft.

  
"Wouldn't notice," Dan says. He looks at Phil then because there's no point in pretending - he doesn't have anything else left to hide. He expects to see comprehension in Phil's face but there's nothing beyond wide eyed confusion. "Shit. I hate this. Look - ever since we first - since I - since we met, everything made sense. Just like that. Like - like all those gross songs you love so much." He shrugs. "That's it."

  
"Ever since we _met_? And you didn't _say_ anything?"

  
"It didn't come up!"

  
"Well, now it has," Phil says, something like a challenge in his voice. "So - what?"

  
"So I love you too," Dan says.

  
And there's that smile again, the smile that Dan always tore his gaze away from, the smile that made him feel too much all at once.

  
"We're so stupid," Phil says, sounding so gleeful about the fact.

  
"Well, yeah," Dan says, reaching out to touch Phil's neck, then his face, utterly sober for the first time. "But we can be stupid together."


End file.
